


The Ruse

by solaas



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-24
Updated: 2014-05-24
Packaged: 2018-01-26 09:15:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1683041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/solaas/pseuds/solaas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This piece is from a larger fic I'm writing that basically covers the plot of Inquisition if I had written it... so it's going to be heavily AU. This particular piece is designed to explain why Cullen turned on Meredith at the end, going to the point of wanting to kill her.</p><p>This fic is very much NSFW and carries a trigger warning of sexual assault. It's in keeping with the darker themes of the DA franchise. You have been warned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Ruse

Cullen made his way through the misty night air as quietly as he could. Outside of his normal, heavy plate armor, he found his simple clothes very conducive to stealth. He took routes that he was unaccustomed to, trying to keep his identity hidden until he reached the safehouse on the outskirts of the city.

Earlier in the evening, at the beginning of his shift, Knight-Commander Meredith had pulled him aside and whispered, “Knight-Captain, I need you to come to the Croxton safehouse tonight, once the men have started their rounds. Tell no one of this and come in disguise.”

Cullen had said nothing, but gave a small nod to indicate that he understood and would obey. A year ago, he might have questioned her as to the purpose of this errand, but in recent months, her relentless pursuit and punishment of those she considered to be disloyal had put him and all of the Templars on edge. The smallest infraction would result in at least a severe rebuke if not more severe discipline. The men were starting to grumble and desertions were becoming a problem--it was all Cullen could do to keep morale up and prevent an all-out mutiny.

Once he had inspected the men and sent them to their midnight patrols, Cullen headed towards Croxton house, on the western edges of Kirkwall. He could not deny the trepidation he felt in his heart as he walked on the long dirt road towards the lone structure that was used to house visiting Templars and other dignitaries who wished to avoid the hustle and bustle of the main streets of Kirkwall. He couldn’t imagine what Meredith wanted to speak with him about in such a clandestine way, but he knew it wasn’t going to be pleasant. Very little was these days with mage-Templar relations at an all time low and open conflict seeming to be an inevitability they could not ignore. What could she want to speak with him about in the middle of the night, in the middle of nowhere?

Cullen dimly hoped that he was being asked to oversee some new visitors, but the empty stable and dim lighting in the windows dashed those hopes. Arriving at the heavy oaken door, Cullen clenched his jaw, steeled himself, and pushed it open.

The small hallway was dimly lit with a smattering of candles. The interior of the domicile resembled its outside: stark, sparsely furnished, meant for function only. Typical Chantry design.

Cullen walked down the hall, poking his head through a few open doorways. Meredith was nowhere to be seen. “Knight Commander?” he called in a voice that cracked.

“I’m back here in the library, Knight Captain,” her deep voice called from the end of the hallway.

Cullen took measured steps toward her voice, steeling himself for what he imagined would be a difficult conversation, even though he had no idea about what the topic could be. Lately, all of his conversations with the Knight Commander seemed to revolve around him trying to quell her paranoid rants about the mages conspiring, preparing to launch a full-scale rebellion, the safety of the entire city, and so on to varying degrees of perceived catastrophe. However, those had been in the barracks, with his fellow templars around. This was the first time she had requested time alone with him, and a secret meeting at that. He was certain this would be extremely personal.

The back library was clearly the most used room in the entire building--most likely the chief meeting place--and therefore given the most upkeep and care. It was well-appointed with several carved wooden bookshelves practically bursting with important-looking books. Heavy deep blue drapes lined the walls, each embroidered with the Templar emblem. The wooden floor was covered with several large fur rugs and a cheerful fire blazed in the hearth

He spotted Meredith in the corner of the library near the fireplace, sitting at a small table with a large tome in front of her. He intended to give a formal greeting but the words died in his throat when he saw her attire. Instead of her normal heavy armor that resembled his, she wore a simple, pure white frock that was generally worn by recruits during the initiation into the Chantry. He had never seen her in anything other than plate mail and the fact that they were both now in clothing that would be considered strange, if not inappropriate, made him want to back out of the doorway and run as fast as he could. What was the meaning of all of this?

Once again, Cullen marshalled his resolve and said softly, as though a loud voice would break the tranquility of the room, “I am here, Knight Commander.”

Meredith looked up and took him in with her icy blue eyes. “Come in, Cullen,” she said in a way that was less chilling than usual. It almost sounded friendly.

He did as he was bidden and approached her, stopping short a few feet and crossing his wrists on his chest in a respectful bow.

Before he could ask about the nature of this meeting, Meredith stood and said, “Before you say anything, Knight Captain, let me explain to you why I called you here under these circumstances.” She levelled her gaze at him and her terrifyingly bright eyes held him fast. “I wanted to have this meeting in secret out of respect for you and your service to the Templars.”

Cullen swallowed hard but could find no words to say. Meredith continued, “There have been… words spoken against you, Knight Captain. Dangerous words. I need to dispel these rumors before they go too far.”

“Rumors, Knight Commander?” Cullen asked, bewildered. “Who has spoken against me?”

“A mage I was… interrogating earlier today told me a disturbing story about you. I called you here to make sure it isn’t true.”

A mage? Spoke against him? Cullen’s mind reeled, and he searched his memory trying to find an instance of anything he’d done recently that could possibly be taken out of context or used against him. Nothing came to mind. Nothing at all.

“The mage in question told me that there are a group of apostates, escaped mages, who decided to get revenge on the Templars here in Kirkwall by using blood magic to enter the fade then planting demons inside Templars while they sleep. The demons could then be summoned to attack anyone within the city. Your name, specifically, was mentioned.” Meredith’s mouth twisted into a frown as she glared at Cullen with a searching gaze.

Cullen’s heart began to pound and he could hear the blood in his ears. “There is no truth to this, Knight Commander!” he protested emphatically. “I have heard nothing of rituals such as these and have taken no part in any magic by apostates or circle mages. There is no cause for any of these apostates to focus on me personally. In truth, I count no mage, not even an escaped one, a personal enemy.” He was starting to babble now, his voice containing an edgy note of near-panic. He took a deep breath and blinked hard, attempting to steady his emotions.

Meredith smirked and somehow became more intimidating. “If you were sleeping, how would you even know what had been done? And there need be no personal grudge to target you. Being my second-in-command would make you an ideal choice if they wanted to get to me.”

Cullen could not argue with her logic. Was it possible that a mage could have done this to him? The witch Idunna had tried something similar with Templars like Wilmod, but he became a full-fledged abomination and his bizarre behavior tipped Cullen off quickly. How, then, could a demon be inside him without his knowledge?

Cullen’s musings were interrupted by Merediths, cool, deep voice. “So you can see why I wanted to avoid the embarrassment of discussing this in front of others. Though I find it unlikely that the mage was telling the truth, I have to make sure for the safety of the Order. You understand that, don’t you, Cullen?”

“Yes, of course, Knight Commander.” Cullen paused for a moment, trying to collect his thoughts. “Though, if the demon has been planted without my knowledge, how can I prove that there is no demon inside me?”

“The mage was persuaded to tell me what signs to look for.”

Cullen felt some relief that there would be a way to prove his innocence. “What must I do?” he asked.

“Strip,” Meredith said flatly, as though she were asking to borrow a roll of parchment.

Cullen balked openly and Meredith’s expression became exasperated. “There will be scarring from the procedure on your back or legs. I need to check. Now, strip.”

Unable to shake a feeling of foreboding, Cullen reluctantly did as she commanded, removing his coat and shirt, then his trousers, leaving on his smallclothes which he dared not remove. Meredith picked up a taper from the table and slowly walked around him, scrutinizing every inch of his body. Cullen had never felt so small and helpless as she took the measure of him with agonizing slowness. It was like being an insect trapped under a glass.

Finally, Meredith stepped away and he was able to look her in the face again. Her expression was unchanged and his heart sank. “You do have quite a bit of scarring.”

“I have seen my share of battles, Knight Commander. “Surely the scars are from normal-- explainable-- injuries.”

“Perhaps,” she said, putting the taper down and tapping her finger on her lower lip. “Still, we must be sure.” She turned to the table and picked up a small vial that had a greenish liquid in it. Meredith examined it for a moment, then held it out to Cullen. “Drink this,” she said, “and we will know for certain.”

Obediently, Cullen took the vial from her but could not bring himself to drink its contents. Instead, he rolled it between his fingers and asked, “What is this?”

“It’s a potion the mage told me how to make. If there is a demon inside you, if the renegade blood mages have succeeded, the demon will manifest itself.”

Cullen blinked hard in shock. “If that’s true, won’t it come after you?”

Meredith gave a dry chuckle. “I’m perfectly capable of handling a lone demon, Cullen.” She levelled another penetrating gaze at him. “Is there a reason you would hesitate to see this through? Are you hiding something?”

“No, of course not!” Cullen blurted out. As usual, Meredith managed to twist everything into some bizarre test of loyalty. And this was certainly the most bizarre yet. But he could find no way out of it, and, much as he hated to consume some unknown potion, he flipped the cap off and swallowed the liquid in one gulp. The taste lingered in his mouth: spicy and cool--definitely laced with lyrium.

For a few seconds nothing happened, and his relief was palpable. Then he felt a tingling in his hands and feet that rapidly spread through his arms and legs and then through the rest of his body. “What--?” he muttered.

Meredith leaned in closer. “What’s happening, Cullen? What do you feel?”

Before he could tell Meredith about the strange sensation, paralysis followed quickly and his legs started to give out. He tried to steady himself against the hearth, but his arms were too weak to support anything. His legs failing completely, Cullen’s body slowly collapsed to the floor. As he crumpled, Meredith called out his name and helped him down safely, laying him out on a large fur carpet in front of the hearth. “Cullen, what is it?” she asked sharply.

“My legs… my body… I can’t move…” Cullen managed to get out before the paralysis took over his throat and face. He could move nothing, not even his eyes. He lay there on the floor, prone and unable to lift a finger. What did this mean? Would the demon show itself now? He could still see Meredith who was standing to the side of him. She looked unafraid.

Meredith grabbed the taper and knelt down next to him, scrutinizing him carefully. “Can you move at all?” she asked. He could not even shake his head. “Can you feel any sensations?” Cullen focused and realized that he could: the rug was soft on his legs and back and the fire was warm. Without a reply from him, Meredith leaned closer and tipped the taper over his chest so that a drop of hot wax hit the exposed skin on his chest. His body flinched at the jolt of pain when it hit.

Meredith stood up and regarded him impassively. “So you can feel things, but not move. Interesting.”

Panic coursed through Cullen’s body. What was happening to him? Drinking the potion, believing what she had told him, he expected pain, a demon’s presence, any grotesque supernatural occurrence to take over his body. But the potion had clearly immobilized him and Meredith did not seem at all surprised. In fact, she seemed pleased. What was she doing?

Without another word, Meredith stepped over his inert body towards his feet, where his eyes were pointed. He took in the length of her: strong and poised as always, yet somehow seeming harder in her soft garment. Then her expression changed to a mask of malice that chilled his blood. In a swift motion, she pulled the strings that laced up her garment at her shoulders and her gown fell from her to the floor, revealing her naked body.

If Cullen could have gasped, he would have. If he could have averted his eyes, he absolutely would have. Confusion blasted his brain and he wondered if the potion had put him in some kind of dream state. This simply could not be happening. There was the Knight Commander, leader of the Templar Order, naked in front of him. Her silvery blond hair draped over her nearly as pale shoulders. Though she was of a more advanced age, her conditioning left her with taut muscles and an admirable shape. Her breasts rose and fell with her deep breaths as she looked at Cullen with triumph in her eyes. He had never wanted to close his own more in his life.

Meredith flashed him a mirthless smile and crouched down by Cullen’s feet. She wordlessly grasped the sides of his underclothes, pulled them off his legs, and cast them aside. He silently prayed that she would come to her senses, that she would stop what she was clearly going to do to him, even though he knew how futile those thoughts were. He could see her eyes as they devoured him whole and knew there would be no reprieve. He was helpless and they both knew it.

Suddenly, Meredith’s hand shot out and grasped his member, causing it to harden immediately at her touch. He felt his skin flush from the abject degradation of it all as she slowly stroked it, sending pleasure through him that was quickly followed by waves of shame. Her dark laugh startled him as she crooned, “You can’t move anything, it seems, but your body is working just fine.” She drew out the last syllable in a sickening purr. No one else had ever touched him like this and that his first time should be her… like this… was repugnant.

After a few moments, Meredith abruptly released his throbbing member and climbed on top of him. She lay her body across his and then moved slowly up towards his face, dragging her hard nipples across his chest. She pressed her lips to his ear and he felt her hot breath as she whispered, “I’ve seen the way you and your fellows look at me, Cullen. I know the lustful thoughts you have harbored towards me.” Cullen wanted to protest, to swear he never had, but had to remain mute and inert as she continued to taunt him. It didn’t matter if he had--this was her game, her cruel amusement--and he doubted she herself even believed what she was saying. “You see, Cullen, there is a demon inside of you, a wanton, libidinous one. I have called it up as I promised I would. And I mean to drive it out of you by any means necessary.”

With that, she sat up, and with another cruel smile, she positioned herself over his traitorous erection that strained to be sheathed inside her even as he was repelled by the very notion. Again, Cullen pleaded inwardly with the Maker to spare him this violation, to show him mercy. But there would be no mercy as Meredith lowered herself onto him, taking the extent of his erection inside her.

Cullen’s body convulsed involuntarily, overwhelmed with the sensation, and a gutteral sound escaped his throat. Meredith gave a mocking laugh. Then she began rocking her hips, sending bolts of pleasure through him even as he was overcome with nausea and despair. Every sensation was his to experience: the sweat beading on his torso, her nails digging into his hips, and, of course, the feeling of her slick insides as they moved around him. Meredith’s speed quickened, and she ground her pelvis into his, causing her to moan hideously with pleasure. It became quickly apparent that the potion’s paralyzing effects rendered him unable to release, which he was certain was intended. No, she planned to enjoy his hard member and a release for him would only prematurely end her enjoyment and render him useless as a plaything.

Instead, she used his body for her pleasure for what seemed like an eternity. After awhile, Cullen’s shame and degradation cooled into a dull misery coupled with a seething rage. And through it all, he was helpless. What humiliated him the most, though, was the knowledge that all of the subterfuge of this setup was unnecessary. There was no need to lie to him, to isolate him, to violate him in secret. In truth, she held so much power over him that she could have thrown him down in the barracks, in front of his fellows, and forced herself on him then and there, and no one, not even Cullen himself, would have stopped her. The fact that she lured him into her grasp with this ridiculous story about blood mages and secret demons made him feel stupid on top of feeling powerless, which was clearly her intention all along. She wanted him to feel a fool, to know he was gullible as well as powerless.

Finally, when she was sated and finished with him, she simply climbed off of him and walked out of the room without a single word. Cullen could still not move his body, nor wipe off his member that was still slippery with her pleasure. The room was silent except for the occasional crackle of the dying embers in the hearth. Early morning sunlight diffused into the room. It was a new day. He could feel tingling again in his face and extremities and was comforted by the fact that the potion was finally wearing off, that he would not be immobilized forever.

Why had she done this? Maker, why? He had been loyal, preposterously loyal to her. He had never questioned her, even as her methods and commands became stranger and more irrational. What could she possibly gain from doing this to him? If it was pleasure she wanted, she could have arranged someone from the Blooming Rose in secret--truly, they made half of their earnings off the Order. No, this wasn’t something she did for herself, it was something she did to him.

A few minutes later, Meredith returned, now clad in her typical armor in all its glory. Her face was expressionless as she she looked him over once again and he felt another surge of shame. “You will not breathe a word, or even a syllable of this to anyone.” There was not even a hint of uncertainty in her cold voice. “If you do,” she continued, looking out the window into the breaking dawn, “I will have you and your Lieutenants hanged in the Hightown square.” Of course there was no question: she could and would do it. Of course she would. And what could he possibly do about it--whom could he tell. It was simple: nothing and no one. He was utterly alone. Meredith’s parting words solidified the iron grip she had on him. Now there would be no question in her mind-- she controlled him completely.

Meredith turned and walked out of the room without a sound. Cullen waited until he heard the front door slam before he let the tears fall.


End file.
